


baby come home

by allthelostsouls



Series: prompts [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: BABY COME HOME TO ME BABY COME HOOOOOOME TO ME IT'S A HALF PAST QUARTER TO THREE BABY COME HOME, Explicit Language, Hopefully I can shut up about it now, I finally did it, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2250189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthelostsouls/pseuds/allthelostsouls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Then go home.”<br/>“You’re my home, Ian,” his thoughts escape him in a tiny whisper but Ian’s room is so quiet it’s almost as if Mickey was right next to him, screaming in his ear, instead of God knows where, barely holding the phone against his face.<br/>“Then come home to me, Mickey.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby come home

**Author's Note:**

> Words cannot express how happy I am right now. Fic inspired by [Baby Come Home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lM2d28lBM3k) \- Scissor Sisters, and if you didn't hear me talking about this song for the past week, where the fuck have you been?  
> 

Ian can’t sleep.

He hasn’t been able to sleep properly for three days now and he’s having a hard time doing everything he needs to do during the day. He lies to his family saying things like _I guess I ran for too long this morning_ or _I have a terrible headache, I think I’m gonna lie down_. And he does lies down, squeezing his eyes shut but he’s not able to fall asleep. He only keeps thinking, thinking, thinking. Thinking about Mickey and what he’s doing. If he’s fucking Angie since _everybody fucks Angie_ apparently, if he found a pretty girl at a bar or maybe even a too-fucked-up-to-remember-what-I-did-last-night guy. His blood starts boiling in his veins every time he thinks about that—thinks that Mickey’s out there kissing and doing stuff with other people beside him but the thing is, he has no right to be upset. Sure, they have this _thing_ but they’ve never really talked about it and no one ever said ‘I don’t want you hooking up with anybody but me’ and if Ian’s completely honest, he’s fucked other people, too. So, yeah, he definitely has no right to be mad, but _fuck_ , that doesn’t mean he can’t feel a bit hurt by it.

He reminds himself that he doesn’t give a fuck (its absolute bullshit, he totally does) when he finds himself scrolling down his contacts, looking for Mickey’s name. He sighs putting the phone down and he’s never felt lonelier—except for that time he wanted to kiss Mickey and he knew Mickey wanted to be kissed, too, but they were at the bar so he knew he couldn’t even try—, and then feels like a fucking school girl when he hears himself think _he loves me, he loves me not?_. He thinks he does. He knows Mickey has feelings for him; everything’s just too fucked up. He puts his phone down again—he didn’t even noticed when he picked it up—because he’s done showing weakness. He knows Mickey won’t call tonight and he’s glad he doesn’t either, he really can’t stand hearing Mickey bragging about the amazing sex he just had.

*

Five days.

It’s been five days since the last time Ian has had a proper night sleep. He’s staring up at the ceiling, over thinking again, of course, and this time he thinks about how good Mickey’s doing without him. He’s positive Mickey isn’t staring up at his ceiling thinking about Ian and that he hasn’t had any trouble going to sleep at night even though Ian’s not there. He feels like the dumbest person in the world for wanting to wrap his arms around Mickey and feel his heart beat against his ribs matching his own.

He feels relief washing over him when Mickey stumbles in. He doesn’t say anything to him, just laughs a little at the way he struggles closing the door and taking off his shoes and shirt. And then he definitely doesn’t say anything when Mickey’s on top on him, kissing him hard and it tates so good. It tastes like beer and cigarettes and Mickey and _I missed you_. It’s messy and they struggle to keep quiet, but it’s easy to get on with it since Ian’s only wearing his boxers and Mickey gets rid the rest of his clothes unbelievably fast for someone who’s that fucked up. 

When they’re done, they lie on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Ian feels much calmer now, his body motionless, and his head’s still on the clouds. His breathing slows down faster than his heart beat and finally, _finally_ his eyes start closing and he’s about to fall asleep. He’s almost completely gone when Mickey stands up. He puts his clothes on and walks out, leaving Ian wide awake once more.

*

It’s been a week.

Mandy notices right away and goes easy on him when she realizes he’s not paying too much attention to her but instead focusing all of his energy on not passing the fuck in the middle of her living room.

“Ian, what is going on with you?” Mandy asks and he feels like shit for making his best friend worry about him. 

“I’m not sure,” he replies and its low and his voice sounds rough and broken, but he’s damn aware of what’s happening.

“When was the last time you slept for more than two hours a day?”

“About a week ago,” Ian replies. _It’s been a week since your brother spent the night with me. It’s been a week since the last time we’ve had a normal conversation. It’s been a week since I’ve kissed him just because I felt like it. It’s been a week_ , he thinks but he doesn’t say it aloud. He’s glad his mind doesn’t betray him like that this time.

“Maybe your house is too loud. I’m about to leave for work and nobody’s going to be home for a while, wanna lay down in my room and see if you can get some sleep?,” Mandy proposes and Ian’s nodding before he can even register the words and knows what they meant. She helps him up and holds his hand all the way to her room just in case his legs give out—they were about to—, and neither of them sees Mickey coming out of the bathroom. Ian takes his shoes, pants and shirt off and climbs under the covers. Mandy ruffles his hair and Ian mumbles a _thank you_ that she’s able to hear before walking out. Ian keeps his eyes closed when feels the bed dip beside him and a hand touches his hip. 

“Mickey,” he mumbles and he’s half asleep. And this is exactly what he needed—he needed to remember how it feels like to have Mickey pressed against him, breathing slowly against his neck to be able to sleep. He’s so happy his mind finally decides to stop fucking around and help him keep his thoughts focused on the feel of Mickey around him to trick him into falling asleep.

When he wakes up five hours later, he still feels the warm of someone else’s body, sees the covers on the other side of the bed all messed up, and lifts his eyes just in time to see Mandy’s door close. Three seconds later, he hears the front door slamming shut.

*

That night, Ian can’t sleep (big fucking news). He’s once more staring the ceiling in his room, wondering why the fuck he chose to fall in love with Mickey. He’s still rolling around in his misery when his phone starts ringing, scaring the living shit out of him. He answers without looking who it is, and his heart stays on his throat for almost the whole conversation.

“Hello?”

“Ian,” Mickey sighs on the phone and Ian can almost smell the alcohol in Mickey’s breath.

“Mick?” He asks, just to make sure his mind is not playing tricks on him. He even moves the phone away to look at the ID caller and the time. 3:15 am. “Mick, it’s three in the morning, are you okay?”

“No,” Mickey answers and Ian doesn’t miss the way his voice shakes. “I wanna come home.”

“Then go home.”

“You’re my home, Ian,” his thoughts escape him in a tiny whisper but Ian’s room is so quiet it’s almost as if Mickey was right next to him, screaming in his ear, instead of God knows where, barely holding the phone against his face.

“Then come home to me, Mickey.”

Mickey sighs in relief, and then, “I’ll be there in five minutes,” his voice still shaky but full of hope.

*

“Didn’t find anyone worth fucking tonight?” Ian jokes and his voice is rough around the edges. “Or was it just one of those casual fucks where you don’t even tell each other your names?”

Mickey scoots closer to him in the bed and mumbles against his neck, “I haven’t fucked anyone else for months, Ian.”

And he definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“What?”

“I just—I don’t want to,” he replies and Ian sees his shoulder rise and fall in a half shrug. And how the fuck is he so calm about his? Mickey burps and it smells like pure beer and _oh_. That’s why.

And okay, Ian isn’t going to ask for a declaration of love, but he sure as fuck is going to take advantage of Mickey being drunk and there with him. 

“Why haven’t you talked to me in so long? Did I do something wrong?” He asks, ignoring the way his voice almost breaks.

“No,” Mickey replies right away, his hand closing on Ian’s hip, clinging into him. “I just—I realized something,” he swallows. “I realized that Lip’s right. You deserve so much better than me, Ian.”

And they’ve had this conversation before. Ian has talked about this with Lip and apparently he had talked about with Mickey, too. And it was time for them to listen to each other say these things.

“Mick, if you ain’t the best thing for me then I don’t want it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mickey shakes his head and pulls back, lying flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“You’re being ridiculous. How dare you say something like that?” Ian spits and he’s getting angrier by the second. “You’re so much more that anyone thinks and you sure as fuck shouldn’t be listening to Lip.”

“Watch your mouth,” Mickey teases and Ian's anger is gone just like that. “I don’t like it when you curse.”

“I thought you loved it when I used bad words and asked you to fuck me harder,” Ian whispers right against his ear and smiles to himself when he feels Mickey shudder next to him.

Ian stares up at the ceiling again and they stay quiet for a while. It’s comfortable and Ian could fall asleep right there and then, and for the looks of it, Mickey’s half way there too but he has to ask.

“Is that why you pretty much ignored me all week? For what you heard Lip saying?”

“I guess so,” Mickey shrugs. “Is that why you couldn't sleep all week? Because you thought I was ignoring you?”

“I guess so,” Ian sighs back and admitting that scares him so much.

“’S fuckin’ crazy,” Mickey shakes his head and the way he hides his face on Ian’s neck tells him that he’s just as scared as he is. But Mickey’s here now, he’s finally home, his arms tight around Ian, his right leg in between his, and he knows they’re going to be okay.

After a whole week, Ian can finally sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> [xcaffeinerush.tumblr.com](http://xcaffeinerush.tumblr.com) \- you can find me here. You can send me prompts, ask me to stop writing (someone did that but was joking and it was the funniest shit I've ever read, thank you), fangirl about stuff, or just come sing with me, yeah? 'Kay. I'm outta here. Cheers.


End file.
